


Interrogations and Oo-mox

by scifihobbit



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Terok Nor (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25896526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifihobbit/pseuds/scifihobbit
Summary: Odo is new to Terok Nor. And he thinks he might have come up with a perfect way to get information out of that suspicious Ferengi bartender.Quark wants to make a good impression on the new chief of security, but he has no idea what's in store.
Relationships: Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Interrogations and Oo-mox

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know even know what this is, guys.
> 
> I didn't rate it explicit because it is oo-mox and only oo-mox, but, if you know Ferengi you know that is pretty damn explicit.
> 
> I didn't tag it for non-con even though it could maybe be read that way because Odo doesn't know that he's providing sexual pleasure. But he's very into what he's doing. So, your call.

The first time it happened Odo didn’t know what Oo-mox was. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the most common forms of humanoid sexual intimacy. He didn’t consider that different humanoids might have different erogenous zones. Really, the concept of erogenous zones was still a bit beyond him. Sensation was different for him. His form was his whole form. It didn’t feel different depending on which parts of the form he’d taken were touched.

So when he’d noticed a pickpocket distracting one of the Ferengi waiters by running a finger around the shell of the waiter’s ear so that he could deftly remove a slip of latinum from the Ferengi’s pocket Odo had taken notice and filed it away for potential future use.

When murder suspect swore that he was in Quark’s bar during the time in question Odo called Quark to the security office. Physical threats had worked well enough last time, when he first encountered the Ferengi bartender, but now that Odo had decided he was going stick around Terok Nor and try out this whole "investigator" thing for awhile he thought he'd expand his repertoire. This was a dirty, violent, hateful place and Odo didn't consider himself above that, but he hoped he could consider it a last resort.

Quark came promptly. He was fairly certain he'd made a bad first impression on this new version of "the law" that Gul Dukat had decided to make his pet project, and any good Ferengi business man knew it was good to have "the law" on your side.

Odo sat behind his desk, ankles crossed. Quark stood until Odo gestured to one of the chairs, showing proper deference to a position that he’d only ever seen filled by egomaniacs.

“I'm so glad we can have a little chat after getting off on the wrong foot the other night,” Quark said. “And in such an orderly and quiet place," he gestured around at what Odo had made of the space the Gul had granted him. "I do hope you enjoy whatever time you spend at my humble establishment, but it can certainly be a noisy place. I do my best to be hospitable to everyone, but especially those who are new around here. That drink on the house is still waiting for you, but since you said you didn't drink maybe you'd be interested in a spin at the dabo wheel.”

“Were you tending your establishment four nights ago?” Odo asked. He’d thought Cardassians liked the sound of their own voice but this bartender oozed even more words than they did.

“Yes.” Quark could see this was a man who appreciated directness. While that was not his strong suit, he could make a decent effort at it.

“And was Legate Irkol in the establishment at that time?”

“Legate Irkol?” The man had racked up quite a holosuite tab. “Which one is he again? They get hard to keep track of all in those same uniforms. You’d think when they were coming to enjoy some leisure they’d dress for leisure, but they never seem to. Such a serious people.” Quark had already forgotten about being direct. He knew he was just so much more charming this way. And sure, he wanted whatever this new enforcer of “the law” on his side, but he also wasn’t going to have this man believe that he’d part with any piece of information just by being asked.

Odo stood and came around the desk and leaned against it, facing Quark and impinging on what was the standard socially accepted limits of his “personal space” by Cardassian standards. “Well, he’s one of the legates,” Odo said. “There aren’t that many of those on Terok Nor.”

“Oh, but they come and go,” Quark said.

Odo was perplexed by this Ferengi’s entire demeanor. Granted, he hadn’t interacted with many Ferengi in his life. This one seemed as facetious and conniving as any Cardassian, but with an undercurrent of self-deprecation and desperation to please that no good Cardassian would ever display. Odo couldn’t figure out what he wanted, and that was the first step in any good interrogation.

When this new security chief continued to stare at Quark, eyes narrowed, Quark decided it was time to up his charm factor even further. “What about you? Are you going to stick around awhile? I’m sure you’re going to be very good for the place.”

Odo realized they’d gotten off track. “Legate Irkol,” he said, returning them to the point at hand. He pulled up the officer’s file on a screen on his desk and showed Quark the headshot in it. “Was he in your bar four nights ago?”

Leaning forward and squinting at the image as if it was hidden behind a fog even thicker than those found on Ferenginar, Quark said, “Oh, Legate Irkol. Of course! I saw him come in. He took his drink up to the second level, so I’m not exactly sure when he left.”

That’s when it happened. Odo could hear something behind the Ferengi’s words that he wasn’t saying—that particular tone of voice didn’t vary much across humanoid species—so he reached out a hand and drew a finger slowly around the curve of Quark’s ear.

Quark didn’t move. He kept his head very still and his mouth clamped shut and cut his eyes over and up to look at Odo’s face. What was he doing?

Odo leaned closer, having thrown any decorum of personal space out the airlock, and, making his voice low and conniving—he hadn’t gotten to threatening yet—he said, “And you’re sure you don’t know when he left?” He’d run his hand all the way down to the lobe of Quark’s ear, and he moved a finger inside its shell, squeezing gently at the cartilage there.

Quark clamped his lips tighter together and managed to at least muffle a whimper. He was aware that, probably, almost certainly, this new chief of security was trying to distract him and catch him out in a lie—even though he really didn’t have any information worth lying about. None of that meant that it didn’t feel delicious, though. And the workmanlike Oo-mox he got from the dabo girls he had under contract when he was feeling particularly dejected didn’t at all compare to someone who had a vested interest in the act. Even if they didn’t have any idea what they were doing. Did Odo have any idea what he was doing? Quark looked up at him again, and he still had the stern and intent look Quark was used to seeing on people who were questioning him.

Odo wasn’t sure this was working. Quark certainly looked more malleable, but he still wasn’t actually answering any questions. Odo pressed his thumb lightly against the nub of skin over Quark’s ear canal, and massaged behind it with his pinky. “Does Legate Irkol come in often?” he asked. When Quark didn’t even start to answer that question, the Ferengi’s eyes still fixed on Odo’s, but also somehow distant and unfocused, Odo started to pull away.

“Only, only, only occasionally,” Quark choked out. He’d seen Odo start to draw back. If he was going to keep the security chief doing the absolutely tantalizing work he was doing then Quark would have to come up with some kind of information to feed him. “He always keeps to himself, mostly.” That ‘y’ sound dragged out into a sigh, and Quark tilted his head toward Odo’s hand.

“And what does he do when he comes in?” Odo enveloped most of Quark’s ear in his hand and pulled it gently down, tilting the Ferengi’s head even farther to the right. This resulted in a noise the like of which Odo had mostly only heard from the cats that had prowled around outside Dr. Mora’s lab.

“He goes,” and that word undulated up and down as it left Quark’s mouth. The tickly pricking sensation was spreading out from Quark’s ear and across the rest of his scalp now. His head felt like a banked ember, felt like it was shining with the gorgeous hue of latinum. “He goes,” Quark tried again, “to the holosuites.” Quark gulped then, both because he couldn’t quite do anything else, but also because he was still playing a part, still trying to keep Odo believing that he knew something worth knowing, so he gulped like there was something he wasn’t saying, and then said. “Mostly.”

“And what does he do in the holosuites?” Odo was still trying to find the answers that might help him solve his case, but by now he was continuing as much out of curiosity as anything else. He pressed his palm against Quark’s ear and rubbed small circles with it, stroking the fingernail of his thumb across Quark’s scalp as he went. The skin there was a darker shade than it had been, and that flush was spreading.

“What most people do in the holosuites,” Quark said, and managed a leer through the sensations coursing through him now. Then he couldn’t help it, he grabbed Odo’s other hand and placed it on his left ear, pressing the cool palm against his heated lobes.

“And when he’s not in the holosuites, what does he do then?” Odo asked. He didn’t hesitate to massage with his other hand as well. The Ferengi was practically melting into the chair. The thought of shifting himself, of using more than humanoid hands to stimulate Quark’s ears crossed Odo’s mind, but he didn’t like people to see him that way unless absolutely necessary.

Quark couldn’t keep it up. His body and brain were far too busy with other things to even begin to try to think of things to tell Odo. He groaned and let his head fall back. The sensation traveled all the way to the tips of Quark’s fingers and through his little toes. His whole body was shining, and Quark knew that if he let it go on any longer he’d end up over sensitized or the cold shakes would hit him. Best to leave while he was still feeling this way.

So he sat up quickly and said, “He was in my bar, Legate Irkol. He drank two Bolian rums, played one spin at the dabo wheel, and left by eleven hundred hours. I believe your murder happened at oh nine thirty? He was sitting on one of my barstools then.” Quark walked to the door, practically floating. Before leaving Odo’s office he turned around and winked. “My bar is always open to you, do stop by for a complimentary whatever-you-want sometime soon.”


End file.
